


Twilight on the Sea

by RedLlamas



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Old Man Bucky, Recovery, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:05:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLlamas/pseuds/RedLlamas
Summary: Bucky wakes up in the land of Wakanda and learns its many ways.





	Twilight on the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "[Crepuscolo sul Mare](https://youtu.be/lqOOFMo0or4)"

Shuri showed Bucky Wakanda and explained how their doctors were able to permanently remove all traces of his indoctrination. As she handed him a fruit of some kind, she said that the only trace of it would be a slight headache upon hearing the words in their order, but it will quickly go away with two Excedrin.

She was smiling about this, and so Bucky did too, taking a bite of the fleshy fruit.

They walked aimlessly, or so it seemed until Bucky realized they were getting closer to the cities. He looked over at Shuri and she only smiled at him.

The people they passed bowed to Shuri and gave him a cursory glance.

The little kids back in the small hut called him White Wolf. He guesses it's because of his whiteness and shaggy hair, which was been well-maintained, better than he ever has for sure.

He's very clean and well-groomed. His clothes are fresh and when he lifted his wrist to smell it, he smelled of perfume.

He feels uncomfortable here, under everyone’s gaze. He's an intruder, he knows that, and at one point their king wanted him dead. Now he's being led by the Princess to the castle. It's almost sunset.

They step inside, the Dora Milaje crossing their arms in respect of the Princess. Bucky bows his head as he passes them, hoping to gain their favor.

The leader of the Dora Milaje, it seems, accompanies them to the throne room, where the King, the Queen Mother, and council are gathered, speaking of whatever topic is at hand. The Princess steps easily into the room, calling the King “bro”, but Bucky stays behind at the entrance. He steps in when the Dora nods for him to enter.

The King looks up at him and Bucky can see compassion in his eyes. He stands up and crosses over to him, holding out his hand.

“James Barnes, it is good to see you standing up again.”

Bucky takes his hand and the King covers it with his hands.

“I take it our doctors were able to rid you of your sickness?”

Sickness is a kindness the King is conceding him, and he's actually grateful for it. He nods and takes his hand away.

The King nods and waves over the Dora. “Mr. Barnes, the General will take you to your rooms now.” At his surprised expression, the King continues, “You are still under Wakandan protection. You will remain here.”

Bucky nods, thankful, and follows the General out of the room.

Once he steps outside, he heard the council say it's risky keeping him here. They close the doors before he could hear the King say anything about it.

  


He sits on the bed. It's big, and lavish. He lays down. The blanket is soft, and the mattress is just right.

He spends a few minutes trying to make his body relax into it. It's been so long since he's been a good bed, his body’s forgotten how it's felt like. The chills keep running down his spine.

He ends up sleeping the night away, near the edge, shivering in the cold room.

  


A woman is there, with her hand on his forehead, looking at her watch. She glances at him when he begins to stir, and gets up to her bag on the table. Bucky sits up, confused as to where he is until he remembers that he moved into the palace. He looks at the doctor, asks, “What's your name?”

“I'm Dr. Delu Sengwayo. The King sent me to check up on you. This is the first time something like this has been done, so we are collecting information about your reactions. But don't worry, everything checks out fine. You might feel groggy today because you've been asleep for so long, so take the rest of the day off. But tomorrow I want to see you walking, okay?” she said, smiling at him in that particular doctor way.

He smiled at her and nodded. She left, bag in hand.

Bucky rubbed his face.

A knock at the door and a man came in with a tray and a cloche. He set it down on the table, and opened it with a flourish and said, “Ta-da!” Bucky giggled at that, clapping his hand over his mouth.

The waiter smiled graciously and waves him over to sit to eat. Bucky complies and sees that it's soft food.

“Soft food, in case your body doesn't agree,” the waiter says. Bucky nods, asks for his name. Afterwards, Femi left with the promise of being back for the tray.

The food was nice. His body definitely agrees.

  


He slept the rest of the day away, only waking up for dinner and a Pepsi. In the morning, Dr. Sengwayo came by and made him get up and into the bathroom. There was an old lady there, Mamá Monifa, who helped strip him of his dress and shoved him into the bath to properly wash him. She was an old nurse of eighty-something years who knew how to properly clean patients with alive wounds.

Bucky hadn't noticed that the skin near his prosthesis had turned red. In fact, he had no prosthesis, it was just raw skin trying to heal, with loose cables in a plastic bag. Mamá said that they will switch the original metal one for a softer material.

“The stress on your torso was too much,” she explained as she washed his hair. “We fix that. No more strain. We're good at that.”

  


Bucky’s dress today was blue. Since Dr. Sengwayo said to walk around, he went exploring the palace. He was awed by its furnishings and radiance. It definitely felt like the home of royalty.

Everyone he passed greeted him amicably. He felt safe yet hesitant to make himself comfortable here.

When he stopped at a balcony overlooking the landscape, he heard bounding steps coming towards him. He turned to see the Princess running towards him. She stopped in front of him and said, “Mr. Barnes! There you are!”

“You don't have to call me Mr. Barnes,” he said. That sounded too detached, and it seems that the Princess likes making friends.

“Okay, James,” she amended, “I heard that Dr. Delu said that you needed to exercise.”

No one has called him “James” since the third grade, and that was only because he finally convinced his teachers to call him “Bucky.”

She took his hand and pulled him away from the balcony. “So, let's go exercise!”

  


The Princess – Shuri, she said to call her – took him out of the palace because she said “it's just a tall building with stuffy people.” Instead, she opted for the tourist route: the city plaza, the museums, markets, lakes, farms, you name it. Bucky followed her around and was attentive when she spoke of wherever they were.

They were currently sat outside a restaurant, eating ice cream. Shuri held out her wrist and an image popped up from her bracelet.

Bucky stopped his spoon midway to his mouth. What the fuck.

Shuri looked up at him and smiled widely. She did that a lot. “These are Kimoyo beads. They're like a cell phone, only better, because I made them! Everyone in Wakanda has at least one or two, and depending on your job, you'll gain more beads.”

Bucky was still shook to the core. How in the fuck.

Shuri laughed at him. She got up and tugged on his sleeve. “Come on, let's go to my office!”

Bucky still brought the ice cream with him.

  


Shuri’s office was a decked out technological playground. It was so advanced, Bucky’s little small 107 year old brain can't believe it.

She showed him around, showing him the vibranium trains, energy-efficient lights, sneak-ers, special chair for special missions, microwave, advanced Kimoyo beads for advanced missions, and the soft slide.

She pulled him over to a luminescent table and grabbed a simple bracelet with three beads and clipped it onto Bucky’s wrist.

“Everyone in Wakanda has a bracelet, and since you're here in Wakanda, you'll also have one,” she said happily. Shuri then explained how the beads function and how to use them.

They took Bucky’s first selfie ever together. He looked uncomfortable, and Shuri looked pleased.

  


Now that Bucky has an official Kimoyo bracelet, he's connected to the Internet and the palace’s security detail. Femi brought them their lunch, and added Bucky as a friend on his bead.

Soon, many of the staff at the palace had him as a contact, partly because they had to keep tabs on him, partly because they genuinely enjoyed his presence. It got to a point where General Okoye had him as a contact.

When they went back to the palace proper, Shuri wanted to show Bucky the giant walk-in closet in her room, but they passed by a meeting room with the door closed. As they were passing it, T’Challa himself slipped out to greet them in the hallway.

“Shuri, Mr. Barnes –” he began.

“James,” Shuri interrupted, looking proud of herself for divulging these news.

T’Challa stopped, looked at Bucky who shrugged and nodded, then continued, “– James, I heard that you have gone throughout the entirety of Wakanda.”

“Yes! I gave James the tourist trip! Oh, speaking of which, now that we have opened up our borders, we should develop a tourism department,” Shuri suggested.

T’Challa nodded, holding out his wrist to write a note of it. He looked up at James, and held out his wrist. “Can I add you as a contact?”

James started. He nodded, held out his wrist, and T’Challa actually took their beads and bumped them, effectively exchanging social information about each other. T’Challa thanked him and left, slipping back into the meeting room.

Shuri immediately turned to him and said, “Oh my God, James!”

He bristled. “What?”

“My brother, the King of Wakanda, just added you to his contacts!”

James doesn't understand the severity of this statement.

Shuri sighed and shook his shoulders. “Can't you see? He doesn't have just _anyone_ on his beads! If I were just the tech master, I probably wouldn't be on his beads.”

James rolled his eyes, scoffing. No way. T’Challa probably had many political affiliates in his contacts.

But Shuri insisted. “I'm serious, James. He holds you in an extremely high esteem if he did that.”

James blushed. “No way.”

“Yes way! Come on,” she said, pulling him in the direction of her room. She suddenly stopped and gasped, and tugged on James’ arm.

“He must like you!”

James is old-fashioned linguistically, so he said, “I thought we already established this?”

“No, I mean like-like you! As in, he _likes_ you.”

Absolutely not. “Not likely,” he says, red face betraying his stoic answer. He pulled her in front of him, willing her to lead the way. She walked a few steps then dramatically turned around to point out, “He touched your beads together!"

“Is that really important?” He nudged her along, and they continued walking.

“Yes! That was basically flirting. No one today has had to touch their beads to yours in order to get your contact information, because by just holding your wrists near each other or swiping your info to each other is enough, like how I swiped our information. You can also touch beads, but that’s more for important things, like high-class information, or money transactions, or medical papers. James, he now has a very intimate profile of yours on his beads, and you have an intimate profile of his on yours.”

...huh. James didn’t think about that. They began going up the stairs.

“He’s basically in love with you.”

“No Shuri.”

  


Shuri’s giant walk-in closet was, in fact, giant. It had all types of clothes and accessories and jewelries, but it seemed that Shuri preferred relaxed commoner clothes.

“Tell me, James,” she began while she was braiding his hair. They were now on her giant bed, watching soap operas on her giant T.V. “How come it says that you’re 107 years old? You look like a thirty year old man.”

James snorted. “Yeah, well, back in 1941, my friend Steve and I were put through an experimental soldier enhancement program. If we’d continued the normal way, we probably would have still been alive a few years ago, like in _The Green Mile_ , but we were frozen in time, in literal ice, and only got out of it recently.” He was mindful of not mentioning his time with the Russians, but she probably knew.

“Ahh,” Shuri voiced. She patted James’ shoulders, and he touched his braid. It was very well made.

She flopped down next to him and grabbed the remote. “What do you want to watch, after being on the ice for several decades?”

He has to think about this. What was the last thing he’d wanted to see, with a free mind?

He had wanted to see Steve again.

“I don’t know. Can you put the 1976 Olympics? I heard that Nadia Comăneci was very good, and I missed it because of a mission.”

Shuri dramatically turned her head to him, eyes wide open. “You missed the 1976 Olympics?!”

“I actually missed a lot of Olympics.”

“That’s just sad! We’re watching the current Olympics right now!” Shuri exclaimed, switching the channel to NBC, and they stayed up until late in the morning watching all the amazing athletes fall on their faces in the snow.

  


James’ pain in his arm woke him up in the morning. He got up from the closet floor and quietly made his way out. When he was about to open the door, Femi opened it and stepped aside for him to walk out.

“How did you find me?” he asked as they made their way to his room.

“I know wherever you go. You gotta eat, man,” Femi answered. Not a lot of people were out and about. “You haven’t eaten properly since last night. Nice braid.”

“Thank you, and I know. Young kids never know how to properly eat.”

They rode the elevator down to his floor.

“You’re still young. You’re very responsible.”

“The Army does that to you.”

“Here, take these pills. They’ll help with the pain in your nub.”

It was a nice way of calling his arm. He took them and drank them with water.

  


Mamá Monifa washed him again, and said that his nub was healing nicely. His cables haven't gotten wet, and they will be switched out for kinder material today.

Dr. Sengwayo came by to prep him for the surgery, and in less than a few hours, James was resurfacing back to the world of the living.

His old Russian cables were all frayed and worn, these new Wakandan ones were clean and new. He felt a slight tingle when he thought of moving his phantom arm.

Dr. Sengwayo told him he'll be using his new arm very soon.

  


It was late at night, when he started to cry.

He didn't want to cry, but he did.

It's been years since he's last let himself feel, or was it since he was last allowed to feel?

He choked on his sobs, uncomfortable with his tears. He's forgotten how to properly cry. His entire body is shaking, and the connections between flesh and wire hurts.

He stops crying. He starts crying again.

This continues for another few minutes, until he feels as if he can't possibly have any more tears.

He wipes his face, pulls the covers up to his chin, and falls asleep.

  


Dr. Sengwayo came to take him for his new arm. He was laid down in a stretcher, and is reminded of the fact that he feels incredibly uncomfortable in hospital beds.

Wheeling in, Shuri walked with him, telling him they'll help him out in any way they can. He'd forgotten he'd have to relearn how to use his hand.

The doctor anesthetized him, and James was once again in a dark world.

  


When he woke up, he saw white. He blinked to clear his vision, and looked around. He was in a room, and he looks down at his arm, and sees it smooth and light.

It feels like his real arm. It even reacts like his real arm. He almost starts crying again at finally having an arm that’s his again but one of the Dora came into his room. She handed him a note, nodded, then left.

The note read, “Come down to my office, I’ll show you how to use your arm! ~Shuri =P”

  


When James arrived at Shuri’s office, he wasn’t expecting to see the King there.

“T’Challa,” he said, surprised.

“James,” T’Challa said.

“James!” Shuri said, and eagerly pulled him towards a chair. He sat on it, and Shuri told him to hold out his hand, which he did.

“T’Challa, come over, you’ll recognize this,” she said. Once her brother was closer, Shuri held up James’ hand so that they could detail the material of his arm. “James’ new arm is made of vibranium, like his old one, but this time it’s made so that it could be like your new suit,” she explains, looking at T’Challa to make the connection. T’Challa nodded, then furrowed his brow.

He gave Shuri a suspicious look. “Wait a second. Have you been a terrible child, sister, and princess?”

Shuri bared her teeth in a smile. She stepped back, and summoned up the camera from her beads.

“My dearest brother, I want you to hit James’ arm.”

T’Challa wagged his finger, pacing a bit. “Nope. Nuh-uh. I’m not falling for that trick again.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I’ll only do it if I can wear my suit.”

“Fine,” Shuri said, then when T’Challa activated his suit, she whispered to James, “This is going to be so funny!”

T’Challa bounced up and down, preparing himself to hit James on his new arm. Shuri sighed and tapped her foot. T’Challa nodded and put himself in position. Shuri prepared her camera, and captured when T’Challa punched James.

They both glowed purple upon impact. Shuri nodded, and said, “Now hit him again!”

T’Challa punched him again in the same spot. They both rebounded, to opposite sides of the room. Shuri managed to get it, and immediately sent it to Okoye.

“The same energy distribution tech is in James’ arm! He also has a WiFi hotspot he can turn on by will. James now has an embedded Kimoyo bracelet that will turn on and work perfectly should his original bracelet ever get lost or destroyed,” Shuri said, showing James the slight circles around his wrist.

“It's also detachable! The wires connect to each other with magnets, and it's very easy to take off. It's for cleaning it and upkeep, but also for whenever you want.”

He nodded, and thanked her for personally designing his arm. He left, and went back to his room.

  


T’Challa was at his door. He didn't ask to enter, he stayed on the other side.

“I wanted to apologize for hitting you so hard.”

“Okay.”

T’Challa looked at him funny. He asked, “Have you never received an apology before?”

James looked away and shrugged. T’Challa nodded in his infinite wisdom.

“That's okay. Maybe you can accompany me for dinner later today?” At James’ widened eyes, he quickly added, “I, I think it'd be good to, you know, update you on what's been going on. Also, to properly apologize to you.”

T’Challa is nervous. James has never seen him like this.

“Okay.”

Now it was T'Challa’s turn to be surprised.

“I mean, yes, I’d like to have dinner with you.”

T’Challa smiled at him, bowed his head, and left. James closed the door, and leaned against it.

He quickly texts Shuri to tell her that he's going to dinner with her brother, to which she screams at.

  


James was walked by Okoye to the dining room. He felt hot under the collar, which was funny, because he's wearing a simple shirt and slacks. He feels incredibly underdressed. He's supposed to see the King, damn it.

Okoye opened the door and nodded to him, leaving the way she came. James looked back to her, and took a breath. He stepped through the door, and found himself with a room full of splendour and elegance, with a long table in the center.

T’Challa was waiting for him, standing at his chair. James neared, saying, “I'm sorry if I made you wait.”

“Nonsense,” T’Challa said, giving him another kindness. He sat, so James sat at his right side. He felt he was too close, but it was too late as plates of food were brought in.

  


They talked throughout the night, with James letting himself smile more and more as the hours passed.

T’Challa made him feel safe. He knows it’s because he has to, but a part of him thinks it’s because T’Challa wants to.

T’Challa looked like a lovestruck fool, face propped up by a hand, leaning towards James when he spoke. It’s been years since James has been on a date, and even though he knows this doesn’t count as one, he can feel the same old butterflies in his stomach.

They stay even after the plates have been removed. James feel like he’s taking too much time here, and he tells T’Challa this. He offers to walk him back to his room.

“You don’t have to do that,” James tries but T’Challa holds up a hand, already getting up.

“But I want to,” he says.

T’Challa walks him back, and James doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He feels a strong urge to hold T’Challa’s hand.

When they arrive at his door, James turns to look at him, and sees a King in front of him. T’Challa takes his hand and holds it in his, and says, “Thank you for this evening.”

“No problem,” James says. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping the awkwardness of what he said goes away, and tries to run into his room, but before he could, T’Challa holds him in place and softly caresses his cheek before gently pressing his lips against his.

When they part, James lets out a breathy sigh.

“Wow.”

T’Challa smiles at him and kisses him again, James kissing him back this time. When they separate this time, James holds him close and asks him, “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you,” T’Challa answers, and James laughs a bit as he leads them into his room.

  


James wakes up wrapped up in the arms of a King, who’s promised him safety and protection, not just for politics, but for love. James wakes up, and knows that he’ll stay by his King’s side, through thick or thin. He also knows that his King will do the same for him.


End file.
